the Morning Star
by Italy's Driving
Summary: Lady Arwen is the evenstar, and for every evening there is a morning. Follow Legolas on his life long journey as one of the two stars of Arda, arguably the two most important elves in the third age. Story is better than summary, I promise. Please read.


Chapter One

 **Inspired by a prompt from one of my lovely Tumblr followers saying: "If Arwen is the evening star. Then could Legolas be the morning star? I'd love to read about his life growing up as one of the two fairest elves on Arda." To which I responded; "Cool story, bro." And then ignored it for three months before I actually got around to writing it. So. Yeah. Here we go.**

 **I do not own Lord of The Rings, or affiliated characters and franchises.**

Legolas was different from the moment he was born. As soon as he was cleansed of the birthing fluids that coated his small body, it was obvious that he was far greater than any elf in Greenwood had ever seen. His skin was soft and the color of honey milk tea, and though he was newly born he shone brighter than even the king himself. His eyes shone a silver blue, and seemed to perceive all with love and affection.

Even as a babe, he was graceful in all his movements. He learned to speak far before his elder brothers had, and his voice was soft and lyrical: A pleasant sound for all to hear. He would smile, and it would seem as if Elbereth herself graced the presence of the woods. His hair grew swiftly, by the time he was six in the eyes of men, a great waterfall of gentle silver curls cascaded down to the small of his back. He could oft be found wandering the gardens of his father's grounds, holding flowers that seemed to continue to grow even as he plucked them from the soil, and if he was not there he was among his people, flowers and buds woven among the gentle curl of his hair as he conversed with those who held him in the highest esteem.

Legolas was a rambunctious child, and had long known he was blessed by the Valar. He had been told ever since he was old enough to understand the gentle sounds that formed words on his father's tongue that he and one other - a young elleth older than he by only a few winters - were the very hope of the elves, the fairest of the first born that had graced Arda since Lúthien herself. But he cared for his natural beauty naught, and instead chose to spend his days wandering the elven cities of Greenwood the Great - now called Mirkwood, by any not of the great wood - or running among the trees with many small birds.

'Anarion,' called Thranduil as the elfling made to leave the palace, 'We will be playing host to two of Lord Elrond's children, in order to strengthen ties with Imladris, for quite some time. I suspect that you will behave accordingly?'

'Of course, ada,' responded Legolas, moving away from the door and to his father's side. His elder brothers - Aeardor, the heir to the throne, and his twin Hissaeldor - smiled down at the young one. They had been gifted with their mother's looks, the wine red hair of the silvan beauty and deep green eyes and her darkened skin. Legolas gazed upon them with a small tint of jealousy, for he knew they were far closer to their mother than he would ever have gotten to be.

'They are twins, like us,' Aeardor said, his gaze loving as he looked upon the hope of their people.

'They are the older brothers to the evenstar, yes?' Legolas responded.

'Indeed, tithen las,' Hissaeldor answered with a smile.

'That is just one of the many parallels between the evenstar and I,' said Legolas, crawling onto his father's lap. The great king placed his hand upon his youngest son's shoulder, and cradled him close to his chest.

'Yes, indeed it is. You will find many in the years to come before you meet her,' Thranduil commented, looking at the garden of ever living flowers that had woven themselves into his son's hair.

He had heard of something similar happening with the evenstar. The morning star was decorated with the beauty of Yavanna herself, and the evenstar gifted with the gifts of the live giver. Thranduil had heard that the evenstar was always surrounded with the love of a great many animals that she had accumulated over the years, and that they never died. Thranduil easily saw the similarities between the evenstar's gift with animals and his own son's gift with all plants. His wrists and arms were encircled with the roots of flowers, seemingly as though they grew from his skin itself. And, indeed, they did.

'Legolas, little love,' Hissaeldor said, 'They will be here within the hours of the day, you should change into clothes better suited for one as fair as yourself. Come, little love, I will help you to prepare yourself.' Legolas smiled happily and allowed himself to be lifted from his father's lap into his brother's arms.

'Tithen las,' Hissaeldor said, 'Would you like to learn how to fight?' Legolas peered up at his brother with large, wonder filled eyes.

'May I, brother?' Legolas questioned, unsure of where this had come from.

'Indeed, you may. I have spoken to adar about it. He has decided that you shall learn to fight as the rest of us,' Hissaeldor responded.

'What shall I learn?'

'You shall learn hand-to-hand combat as all warriors do. You shall also learn two weapons of your choice.'

'I shall learn how to shoot a bow, and how to wield duel blades, as the great warriors of old did.'

'Wise choices, little love. They will suit you well. You will, of course, keep up with your studies of music and poetry along with your training.'

'Yes! I enjoy my lessons so, I could never dream of giving them up!'

'Although,' Legolas looked away from the rose growing from his wrist as Aeardor entered the room, 'I see not why you must take lessons in music. For your skills are second only to Daeron, for he is the greatest Arda has ever had the pleasure of hearing.'

'What about the evenstar, brother?' Legolas asked.

Aeardor laughed, 'Her skills pale in comparison to yours. You shine far brighter than she does.'

'Aeardor!' Hissaeldor reprimanded, 'Think naught of his words, tithen las. For they will only make you conceited and nobody shall like you if that should happen. You and the evenstar are complete equals. You are not more beautiful than she, nor is she more beautiful than you. She is the only one that is equal to you in every sense, and she is the only one that ever will be. You are not better than she, she is not better than you.'

'I understand, brother. Aeardor is just being silly,' Legolas responded with a bright smile.

'Indeed, he is,' said Hissaeldor, moving behind Legolas so as to gently brush his hair, 'I am surprised by the fact that your hair is not more tangled, given all that has woven itself into it.'

'They keep my hair neat for me,' acknowledged Legolas, quickly trailing off into singing to the many flowers sprouting from his skin.

It was not long after Legolas had finished being dressed, that he decided to walk the town. Promising to be careful and to be back before night fall, he was permitted to leave without an escort. There was none in Greenwood the Great that would harm the morning star, and so protection was unneeded, as the trees themselves would bend themselves to his will should he require aid. He wandered about the musicians quarter of the largest city in Greenwood the Great. It was home to minstrels and poets and dancers and anyone anywhere in between. He oft wandered there, enjoying the dancing of his people. They were so different from he, they blended so well with the trees, while Legolas stood out like a tulip in a rose bush.

'Lord Anrion,' greeted Cellinor, a Silvan minstrel older than Legolas by more than a few winters. Legolas enjoyed the minstrel's company greatly, and sometimes sought it out over that of his own brothers.

'Cellinor! Why, I was just going to search you out,' Legolas walked swiftly over to the older elf, the train of his clothes dragging across the floor.

'And here I was looking for you! There is someone I would like you to meet,' Cellinor lead Legolas into his home as he so often did, though they passed the pair of lutes - one beautifully carved and complete and the other rough and half finished - that they usually stopped at. Cellinor walked into a room that Legolas had not oft been in. It housed a large collection of harps that Legolas would learn to play once he had finished with the fiddle and the carving of his lute. An elf sat there, with dark hair and light skin and sad eyes. He was Ñoldor, not Sindarin as Legolas and not Silvan as Cellinor.

'This is Dairon. Dairon, this is Legolas Anrion,' Cellinor introduced.

'A pleasure to meet you, Master Dairon,' Legolas said, inclining his head respectfully.

'And you, morning star. I have heard many things about you, although I admit that the songs and tales of your beauty do not do you justice. You far outshine the morning sun, and even the evenstar herself,' Dairon said.

'I thank you for your compliment, though I regret to inform you that you are incorrect. The evenstar and I are equal in every sense of the word,' said Legolas.

Dairon inclined his head, 'That is true. It is good to see that you are humble. Even the most beautiful face is marred by an ugly soul.'

'Indeed,' Cellinor chimed in, 'I do believe that the reason Legolas appears more beautiful is merely because he is a brighter presence than the evenstar. He has the ability to captivate anyone and to leave them dumbstruck.'

'I do hope that your voice is as sweet as your face,' said Dairon, 'For I am composing a new song and I will need only the sweetest of voices to sing the lyrics for me.'

'This is why I have been searching for you, Legolas. I knew that your voice was exactly what Dairon is looking for,' Cellinor said, his voice high with excitement.

'I would be honored to sing for you, Master Dairon. What is the song about?' inquired the young prince.

'I have yet to decide, little prince. For a singer cannot sing if they know naught of the writing of the song. Surely Master Cellinor has taught you the history of all the songs you sing?' Dairon responded.

'Indeed he has. Does that mean. . .' Legolas' face split into a beatific smile, 'That I shall be permitted to help you write the song?'

'Indeed, you will,' Dairon continued, 'But, first, I shall like to hear you sing.'

'What song?' Legolas asked.

'Your favorite,' Dairon said. Legolas' grin grew.

'There is a song I know, it is a beautiful love story between the most beautiful of elves and a mortal man. Shall I sing it for you?' Dairon's fist clenched minutely, though he nodded all the same. Legolas opened his lips and sang in perfect Quenya;

' _I lassi ner andë, i salquë né laiqua,_

 _i lohti vinneva ner hallë ar vanyë,_

 _ar mí aldëon cala né cenna_

 _elenion mi lumbuli sílala._

 _Tindómiel né liltala tanomë_

 _lindalenen halda simpo,_

 _ar cala elenion né loxeryassë,_

 _ar mi fanarya rilya._

 _Tanomë Beren tullë ringë orontillon._

 _Ar vanwa ranyanes nu lassi,_

 _ar yassë i Eldarinwa sírë sirnë_

 _vantanes er ar nyérala._

 _Tihtanes imbi lassi vinneva_

 _ar cennë áyanen lóti laureva_

 _collaryann' ar hamparyar,_

 _ar loxerya ve lumbulë hilyala._

 _Lúc' envinyatanë lumbë taluryat_

 _yar or ambor ner umbartaina ranya;_

 _ar et amenta pold' ar linta,_

 _ar rahtanë isilmë mirilyalanna._

 _Ter lanyainë tauri mi Eldamar_

 _quildëavë yurnes liltala talunten,_

 _ar hehtanë s' eressëa er ranya_

 _lammalóra taurissen lastala._

 _Hlarnéro tanomë rimbavë rimpa lamma_

 _talion ve quildië ve [linden]-lassi,_

 _var lindalë lamyala nu talan,_

 _muinë unquissen rihtala._

 _Sí hessë caitar i vinne-vaini,_

 _ar min apa exë fírela lammanen_

 _lussala lantanë i ferinyë lassi_

 _I hrívëa tavassë wilwa._

 _Sanceros voro, ranyala haira_

 _yassë lassi loaron tiucavë acáitië,_

 _calanen Isilo ar alca eleno_

 _ringwëa Meneldë iryala._

 _Telmerya tinnë isilmenen_

 _ve ambonna tár' ar haira_

 _liltanerë, ar har taluryat acáitië_

 _hísië telpeva iryala._

 _Írë hrívë vánë ellelyanerë,_

 _ar linderya leryanë i linta tuilë,_

 _ve ortala lindo, ar lantala mistë,_

 _ar fifírula nén [bubbling]._

 _Cennero Eldarinwa lóti tuiar_

 _harë taluryat, ar né ennestaina_

 _milyanero har së lilt' ar linda_

 _salquenna útarsala._

 _Atayurnerë, mal linta tullero,_

 _Tindómiel! Tindómiel!_

 _Tultaneros Eldarinwa esseryanen;_

 _ar tanomë pustanerë lastala._

 _Er lú tyullerë, ar lúcë_

 _ómarya carnë senna: Beren tullë_

 _ar mandë lantanë Tindómiellenna_

 _i rancuryatsë caitanë mirilyala._

 _Írë Beren tirnë henduryatsë_

 _i lumbulissen loxeryo,_

 _iryala silmë i fanyarëo_

 _cennero tanomë ñaltaina tínala._

 _Tindómiel i Eldarinwa-vanya,_

 _ilfirin vendë Eldarinwa-saila_

 _rimni së lantanë huinëa loxerya_

 _ar rancu ve telpë ilcala._

 _Anda né i tië i umbar collet,_

 _or sarnë oronti ringë ar sindë,_

 _ter mardi angainë ar mornë fendassë,_

 _ar tauri lómilumbiv' arillórë._

 _I peryala ëari imbë te caitar,_

 _ananta tyelimavë omentanentë exa lú,_

 _ar andavë yá oantientë oa_

 _i tauressë lintala nyérelórë.'_ (1)

'Your voice is indeed quintessential for my song. I shall look forward to working with you,' Dairon said.

'And I you, though we shall have to start tomorrow. I promised my father I would be back before the velvet curtain of night drew itself across our sky, and I have already spent much of the day in the palace and watching the dancers,' Legolas said, 'I do not want to disobey my father, and so I must take my leave.'

'I shall look forward to working with you tomorrow,' Dairon said, 'It was an honor to meet you, Lord Anrion.'

'Indeed, the pleasure was mine, Master Dairon. And it is Legolas to my friends. I will see you tomorrow.' Legolas inclined his head respectfully towards Dairon and embraced Cellinor(2) before leaving the minstrel's home and hurrying to the palace.

 **OK! First chapter is shorter than what I wanted it to be, but I think it's pretty good. Next chapter, little Legolas meets Elladan and Elrohir!**

 **Okay. I was trying really hard to express that Legolas and Arwen are equals. Completely and totally. However, most of the Mirkwood elves have never actually met Arwen, and as such they only have Legolas to go off of. And, because he is their prince and their hope, they have elevated him to an untouchable level. In their minds, nobody is comparable to Legolas, however they are equal.**

 **I was also trying to convey a few differences between the two. One, Legolas is more inclined towards plants while Arwen is inclined towards animals. Plants and animals that the two are fond of do not die. In fact, when Legolas comes into contact with plants they will literally bury themselves under his skin and grow from there if he should allow them. Legolas is a walking garden. He doesn't have many plants, but enough to be noticeable. Arwen is closer with animals. They do not bury themselves under her skin.**

 **I've always imagined Arwen as an extremely skilled warrior, diplomat, and leader. Her strengths lie in those three things and sub-categories which are directly associated with those things. I've also imagined her as extremely wise and brave- after all, she faces death with happiness knowing that she spent her life with the man that she loved. If that's not brave, I don't know what is. On the contrary, Legolas' talents lie in things like music, story telling, and manipulation- both on purpose and not. His strengths lie in those three things adn sub-categories directly associated with those things. In addition, he also tends to be more flighty and wistful than Arwen. While not cowardly, he is quick to assess the details of a situation and prefers "flight" over "fight". Arwen's skill as a warrior comes naturally, while Legolas' comes from years of hardwork and training.**

 **1- The song is The Song of Beren and Luthien in Quenya. I suggest looking up the lyrics. I rather like the song.**

 **2- In the movies elves are sort of seen avoiding contact, but in the books it isn't even mentioned at all. But I've always headcanoned that elves are a very touchy-feely type of race. Given how passionate and child-like the race seems to be as a whole, I think it's a fair assumption.**

 **All right. That's done. As always, reviews make me super happy.**

 **Until Next Time, this is Italy's Driving saying;** _ **That's All Folks!**_


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